dared huge crimes, and compassed what they dared.
Ne'er had a hundred mouths, if such were mine,
Nor hundred tongues their endless sins declared,
Nor iron voice their torments could define,
Or tell what doom to each the avenging gods assign.

LXXXIV. "But haste we," adds the Sibyl; "onward hold
The way before thee, and thy task pursue.
Forged in the Cyclops' furnaces, behold
Yon walls and fronting archway, full in view.
Leave there thy gift and pay the God his due."
She spake, and thither through the dark they paced,
And reached the gateway. He, with lustral dew
Self-sprinkled, seized the entrance, and in haste
High o'er the fronting door the fateful offering placed.

LXXXV. These dues performed, they reach the realms of rest,
Fortunate groves, where happy souls repair,
And lawns of green, the dwellings of the blest.
A purple light, a more abundant air
Invest the meadows. Sun and stars are there,
Known but to them. There rival athletes train
Their practised limbs, and feats of strength compare.
These run and wrestle on the sandy plain,
Those tread the measured dance, and join the song's sweet strain.

LXXXVI. In flowing robes the Thracian minstrel sings,
Sweetly responsive to the seven-toned lyre;
Fingers and quill alternate wakes the strings.
Here Teucer's race, and many an ancient sire,
Chieftains of nobler days and martial fire,
Ilus, high-souled Assaracus, and he
Who founded Troy, the rapturous strains admire,
And arms afar and shadowy cars they see,
And lances fixt in earth, and coursers grazing free.

LXXXVII. The love of arms and chariots, the care
Their glossy steeds to pasture and to train,
That pleased them living, still attends them there:
These, stretched at ease, lie feasting on the plain;
There, choral companies, in gladsome strain,
Chant the loud Paean, in a grove of bay,
Rich in sweet scents, whence hurrying to the main,
Eridanus' full torrent on its way
Rolls from below through woods majestic to the day.

LXXXVIII. There, the slain patriot, and the spotless sage,
And pious poets, worthy of the God;
There he, whose arts improved a rugged age,
And those who, labouring for their country's good,
Lived long-remembered,--all, in eager mood,
Crowned with white fillets, round the Sibyl pressed;
Chiefly Musaeus; in the midst he stood,
With ample